


Getting to the Bottom of Things

by TWDObsessive



Category: The Walking Dead (TV), The Walking Dead - All Media Types
Genre: Awkward Daryl, First Kiss, M/M, POV Daryl, Rickyl, Virgin Daryl
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-06-28
Updated: 2015-06-28
Packaged: 2018-04-06 15:06:44
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,190
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4226463
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/TWDObsessive/pseuds/TWDObsessive
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Daryl is sick of always having thoughts of Rick floating through his mind and he's determined to figure out what exactly he and Rick have.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Getting to the Bottom of Things

**Author's Note:**

  * For [skarlatha](https://archiveofourown.org/users/skarlatha/gifts).



> Unbeta'd one-shot. A gift for my awesome beta reader who's been busy for weeks helping me with a longer story. Thanks, Skarlatha!! Here's some Rickyl for you since we are in such short supply of it here lately!

Ain't waiting no more. Ain't gonna be confused 'bout it no more. Life's too short when a day don't go by without a close call. Even if it's an inconceivably small sliver of a chance, I'm getting to the bottom of this thing. Gonna just find out. Cause Jesus Fuck am I sick of those times when I'm half a second from dying, walker teeth an inch from my flesh, life flashing before my eyes, and all I see is Rick. 

Rick. In a million different snapshots of time where I could've leaned in and kissed him. Could have held on to his hand. Ran my fingers through that thick mop of curls. A million times that his eyes were on me like a warm blanket and both of us just turn away. Christ, the way he's looked at me, I feel like he's already fucked me. I'm already his. He's laid claim to me with just his gaze. 

But he ain't never laid a hand on me that way. Neither of us have and if I'm wrong, if there's not something deeper there than friendship, deeper than family, then I'll take whatever comes from getting turned away. 

Rick was a good man. He'd never turn his back on me cause a' feelings and emotions I can't control. If he don't want me back, he'll let me down gentle. Won't embarrass me. Won't pull away from whatever we do have. He's too kind. Too good. So I ain't got nothing to lose.

I storm back to the prison not even trying to hunt anymore. Just keeping an eye for walkers and taking the straightest, quickest route I can back to Rick. Cause after this last close call out here on my own, I want to know. I need to know why he's always behind my eyes. 

As I marched back with a steel resolve to get my answers I plan half a dozen ways to approach him. Everything from pushing him into a wall and kissing the fucking shit out of him to asking him on a date to watch the sunset. Every one of them sounds perfect... for about ten seconds. Then it sounds ridiculous and I can't even picture myself doing it. 

But I continue to move forward, determined. I have a goal, a mission. And it's much bigger than the mission to bring back a deer or to find medicine on a run. 

I start to wonder as my thoughts are filled with this man...Is it me that seeks him out at every stop? Me that slides in next to him at meals? Me that leans in to talk about what to do next, soft with quiet words so he has to lean in close to hear? Am I pacing my steps to fall in line with him? Or is he doing these things to me? To coax me closer with hushed discussions of plans, settling next to me at meals so close that our thighs touch? 

I see the gates ahead and my stomach lurches. I won't not do what I'm storming here to do. Michonne's at the fence and let's me in. "You ok?" she asked. 

"Fine," I say, clearly not fine, every bit the angry, disgusted Dixon that I usually am.

She knows enough to let me be. As I got to the doors of the building Carol walks out. She can read me better than anyone and knows not to say a word. "Rick," I growl to her as I approach. 

"Cafeteria," she answers.

He was the only one there. Sitting alone and picking at a tray of whatever was passing for lunch these days. He looks up when I enter, those night blue eyes digging into my brain. Trying to read my mind like they always do. 

"You ok?" He asked, looking at me like my next words were the most important thing in his world. And I ain't never had friends before this whole mess and ain't never had lovers so I don't know which this kinda look comes from. Alls I had was Merle and he only looked at me one way. Wondering what he could get out of me. 

I slam my crossbow down on the table and he jumps. I pace, keeping eyes on him as I move back and forth like a caged animal realizing that I forgot to make a decision on what to do and what to say. 

"How come every time I'm 'bout to be eaten by a walker, all I can think of is you?" I blurt out.

Rick cocks his head at me. That stupid way he had like he'd understand everything better if he just heard the words once more with his head tilted a little.

"What?" He asks innocently like none of this was his fault.

"Fuck, Rick." I say, still pacing. "Always you. After every kill, every battle, my first instinct is to look for you. Sitting down to dinner... Look for you. Walking through the woods for months at a time... Every damn day of it, every step, look for you. Trying to die out there and still the last thing I see... I'm looking for you." I'm ranting. I imagine what I must look like and embellish it in my head like a cartoon, frothing at the mouth, hair sticking straight up, eyes pinwheel swirls of insanity.

He don't say a word. Just sears into me with those eyes that makes ya feel like his hands is already all over ya even though he's four feet away.

"And why you gotta always look at me like that? You trying to read my mind?" And I barely register his quick movements as I'm grumbling. He slides out of his chair and walks me back to the wall like a tiger cornering his prey. 

"What the fuck are you doing, man," I asked trying to push him away cause I thought I was supposed to, and not giving it my all cause I wanted him even closer.

"Thought you wanted answers," he said, voice low and soft, tickling my ears with the sweet sound of it. He was so close I could feel his breath ghost across my lips as he spoke.

Then we were at a standoff. His lips inches from mine. Both of us flushed, breathing fast like we been running for miles, pupils blown wide.

And I do it. I lean in those two inches and let my lips press against his. His hands grabbed me and for a moment I think he's gonna throw me to the floor and start kicking. But he don't, he holds me steady so he can make the kiss more, parted lips and slow licks and hands in my hair and his hips pressing hard against mine.

And when we part I know I'm for sure gonna be thinking about him next time my life's flashing. Gonna be thinking about him next time I breathe. Every breath. For the rest of my life.

"Make sense now?" Rick whispered, his voice a little shakey. 

"No," I stammer. "Explain it again."

**Author's Note:**

> Comments make my day! If you have time after reading, I hope you'll share your thoughts! :-)


End file.
